Old friend, why are you so shy? It aint like you to hold back or hide from the light A thin stick with a small red ember at the end; from which danced smoke in the most beautiful patterns. Each thin billow chasing the others tail. The smoke wasn't large and cloudy and smelled of nicotine. But rather a thin elegant white smoke that danced before your eyes and invited a beautiful scent to your senses.
Swirling, tumbling and diving.
Rupert has been gazing at the clouds, grey-white clouds that look as if they're about to burst. They create a lazy air that only wants to be filled with the brilliance of a brush stroke. Sleek, dynamic colours that create an obscure reality. A reality through Rupert's eyes. These clouds provoke moods of tea drinking, and writing odd sentences that are disjointed and awkward but clever nonetheless.
take my tongue, go have some fun.
take my heart, tear it apart.
take my heart, tear it apart.
Ice cream with strawberries is the taste of summer, an attempt to brighten the dismal day. It instead has made me a sleepy cat that would love an afternoon nap. The strawberries fit so well in the spoon with just enough iced cream to make them cool. Rupert enjoys the combination much.
Lately I have been having cravings for cigarettes and wine.
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